Just Like You
by Joon
Summary: Kamisama's goals can just be misguided. Spoilers for the Kamisama arc.


"Kami-sama, please, Kami-sama."

He didn't know why he'd called the man, this Sanzo priest, a god. When he'd been younger, still a child and not a broken man in a child's body, he'd always imagined a god would be like a beacon of light, giving peaceful illumination to the souls of those around Him. Only now the boy did not want his soul to be exposed by God's heavenly glow. He did not want the world to see his scars and his secrets.

This man gave off nothing and seemed, if anything, to take and devour the light and everything else around him with his presence. And the young boy thought how he could take him and devour his pain. Swallow up the last few shameful years of his life. To give him peace, by destroying all that was wicked inside of him.

While perhaps not a god, this man could give to him what God could not."Please, Kami-sama. Take me with you."As the men around them in the market square laughed at what they believed to be a boy's misguided attempts at solicitation, the small blond only gripped the pristine robes of the Sanzo, desperate not to be left behind. He stared up at green eyes behind a pair of glasses that looked back at him. The priest looked amused. "Do you believe there's a god?" he asked. Fearing the wrong answer would mean being abandoned to this filth and this misery, the boy nodded vigorously before the question was barely out. The Sanzo chuckled at the eager response that was coupled with naked desperation that could so easily be molded into adoration. He walked on without another word. The boy, who remained clinging to his robes, followed.

* * *

He knew that his new guardian was not a god. But he dared to think that his master was perhaps even better than a god. Ukoku Sanzo was only a human, but he could do such amazing things. Even better, he was willing to show him how. He only needed to ask and his master would teach him. It was all done so flippantly, as if Ukoku deemed teaching his pupil how to make dolls move with a wave of his hand was akin to teaching him how to tie his shoes properly. The boy now a year into his new life decided that one day, he would be just like his master. Imagine knowing so much that the world no longer held any fear for you? He couldn't think of anything better.

* * *

"Almost packed."

Standing by his master, the student watched with nervous fidgeting as the older man flippantly threw a few notebooks into the open suitcase. In contrast to his nonchalant calm, the student continued to feel anxious. Without realizing it, the blond clenched his fingers around the Sanzo robes as he'd done so many years before. Only now the robes were on him. Realizing what he was doing, he abruptly loosened his hold, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Sensei…"

"Hmm?"

He didn't get much further, his eyes falling on a soft-looking stuffed rabbit that was squished inside the nearly full suitcase. Its furry ear curved around the rolled up sutra, which had been tossed in with about as much ceremony as a pair of shoes. He stared, swallowing down the bitterness that rose in his throat at the fact that the sutra was leaving with his master instead of remaining with him, sitting across his shoulders.

He forced his eyes to look up from suitcase to the man who was packing it. His pitch black hair was carelessly slicked back off his face, which showed evidence of not having been shaved this morning. The entire appearance was so much more slovenly than the way his master normally looked that it almost made him seem an entirely different person. But more than anything, it was odd to see his master out of his priestly robes. About as strange as wearing a set of robes himself. But any awkwardness he felt, he tried to push away. This was his title now. He had earned it. Been bestowed it by the greatest Sanzo in existence. He would do justice to both the title and his master. It didn't matter that he wasn't to have the sutra.

It really didn't.

As if to illustrate the futility of even thinking on it, the suitcase lid fell shut over the stuffed toy as well as the holy relic.

"There," announced the now former Sanzo, speaking around a cigarette that had gotten to be a permanent fixture lately. "All packed. Off I go!"

To his student's amazement and some dismay, the dark haired man took hold of the suitcase and simply began to walk away. No last words. No goodbye. No…. A sudden, unexpected bolt of panic shot down his back. "Sensei!"

The older man turned, looking surprised at the outburst. "Huh?"

"I…is that it?" he asked.

"Did you need something else?" inquired the ex-Sanzo.

He knew he looked stricken. He knew he looked scared and unsure of himself. It was humiliating, especially at his age. Feeling the heat rise in his face, he lowered his gaze. He heard footsteps come back toward him and soon a pair of scuffed shoes came into view.

"You have the house," he heard his mentor say, a grin in his voice. "You have all the toys you could ever want to play with. The skills, the talent, the drive, and the instructions. What else do you need?" The words were encouraging. As they'd always been. But somehow they lacked the one thing he'd always wanted from his surrogate parent.

_It's a test,_ he told himself. _All of this is a test to see how worthy you are. You have to prove yourself, if you want to be like him. He would be confident. Proud and strong._

"Sensei," he murmured, looking up with new resolve. "Thank you…for everything. I..I won't let you down."

"Play to win. Don't forget to have fun!"

"I will be a Sanzo worthy of you."

A hand cheerfully patted his shoulder, a gesture that was both supportive and dismissive. "Sure, sure! You'll do great!"

He gave what he hoped was a secure smile. "Thank you. But…"

"What?"

"Well…you haven't given me a name yet. A Sanzo name."

He knew it was tradition that the next to take over the title be given a new name to mark the beginning of a new life. But nothing about his appointment to the title of Sanzo had been ceremonial or traditional up to this point. He'd told himself that it was in keeping with the unorthodox, but vastly superior nature of his master. Still…surely his master would give him a new name. Surely that much of tradition he would adhere to.

"Is THAT'S what's bothering you?" asked the ex-Sanzo, laughing. The sound made his student cringe a little. "Come on, kiddo. You don't need me for that. It's your title now. Give yourself any name you want."

He gaped. A voice inside of him shouted at the injustice of this. That he be denied the sutra as well as a new name. How could he be a Sanzo without even one of these things? He argued with himself that if it didn't matter to his master, it shouldn't matter to him either. And yet it did. But before he could protest, the ex-Sanzo gave him a last pat on the shoulder and turned to leave. "I'm way behind schedule," said the older man, pleasantly. "Tons to do. Gotta go."

"But-"

"Really, just pick any name you want," he advised, not even turning around.

Watching his master's retreating back, he suddenly felt like a young boy again, standing in the market square, frightened to be left behind. Before he could stop himself, he took a step forward and cried, "Kami-sama!"

He heard his master laugh as he reached the door. "Sure! That's a good name. So long, kiddo. Be seeing you."

And with that, the man who was no longer Ukoku was gone.

He was alone, feeling ashamed at the sense of abandonment that now filled him. He clenched a hand into a fist, digging his nails into the sensitive underside of his palm.

_Stop thinking this way. Just win the game. And then you can be just like him. And when you are, you won't feel wanting ever again. You really will be better than a god. _

THE END


End file.
